Between Planets
by GhostGenocide
Summary: Shiro forgets his umbrella. Katie is there to help.


Covered in sweat and stuck beneath the metal awning of the Garrison's communal recreation center, Shiro frowns as he looks out over the sopping wet pavement that stretches across the yard toward the officers' dorms.

 _I can run,_ he thinks, shifting his weight, making the material of his gym shorts fall loose from between his thighs; the cool October air is relentless in its unwelcomed access to lick at even more of his uncomfortably damp skin. _It's only, what, a quarter-mile? Not even?_

As if on cue, the rain abruptly picks up from a heavy drizzle to something more akin to a torrential downpour. A deafening crack of lightning splits the sky into pieces overhead.

 _Or I guess I can just wait a little longer,_ he decides, stifling a sneeze into the crook of his elbow.

When nearly ten minutes pass with no sign of the storm letting up anytime toon, Shiro sighs and accepts his fate. He hitches his gym bag up over his shoulder and prepares to make a run for it when something sharp suddenly prods him in the temple.

"Sup, Takashi?"

"Katie?" He turns, scraping his nose on a jutting piece of metal and getting a face full of taut black nylon. He guides her umbrella toward the ground so that he can talk to her without the added risk of getting an eye poked out, but the unobstructed sight of her signature smirk makes him think that perhaps he should've left it. "What are you doing here?"

It's a stupid question, he realizes, when he remembers where they currently are: on the steps of one of the only Garrison buildings that doesn't require at least a level two security clearance. But seeing her on campus outside of her mandatory flight drills and scheduled classes is a rare occurrence, and without the company of her two crewmates flanking her is even stranger still—not that he's complaining.

"What, are you security? Gonna ID me?" she teases. Dressed in a pair of joggers and an oversized forest-green hoodie with her hair pulled back in a messy, uncommitted ponytail, Katie looks the very definition of the phrase "just rolled out of bed," with maybe a smidgen of "I tried" somewhere in there, too. "I didn't know I needed a hall pass to go get something to eat."

"From the rec center? But there's only vending machines in there."

"Vending machines with _Pop-Tarts,"_ she corrects him, motioning down to the front pocket of her hoodie where the shiny blue corner of an unopened package pokes out. Smugly, she adds, "And they were free."

"They _were_ free, or you _made_ them free?"

"Does it matter?"

It does. But two years of watching the way exasperated reprimands from commanders and colonels alike went in one ear and out the other has taught Shiro that he's better off saving his breath. Besides, he'll be leaving soon, so he opts to play along instead.

"Matt's told me you've been holed up in that dorm of yours all week. Is that what you've been doing in there, making a vending machine cracker?" he asks, fighting to keep his mouth a straight line at the suggestion of something so ridiculous. The knowing glare that Katie shoots him almost costs him his composure. "That's a slippery slope, Katie. I mean, what's next, phone booths? Token dispensers? Honestly, you'd think that brilliant mind of yours could be applied somewhere a little less dastardly."

Katie groans. "Stop. _Please."_

"Sorry, but I'm not sure I follow."

"You're not funny."

"I don't know about that."

"Just because my dad laughs at your terrible jokes doesn't mean that they're actually good," she tells him, though there's no real malice to her words; not when he can see how the corners of her own lips struggle to maintain her feigned annoyance. "And really, Takashi? _Phone booths?"_

Shiro breaks first, unable to hold back the breathy laugh that escapes his throat like steam from a whistling kettle. The incredulous look she'd given him for making such a dated reference was partly to blame, but if he's being honest, it's mostly just his nerves.

"Seriously though, maybe you shouldn't mess around with the vending machines." It's a moot suggestion, he knows, but he can't help it. Matt and him aren't going to be around for the next two years to help get her out of the tight spots she'll undoubtedly find herself in with whatever authority figure pisses her off that week, and the last thing he wants to hear when he returns is that she'd been kicked out of the Garrison for misconduct.

"Well if that stupid thing didn't take my money all the time then I wouldn't have to!" she complains, brows high and empty palm extended back at the rec center, and for a moment Shiro wonders how _he's_ going to make it through the next two years.

"And how about you stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourself! You're gonna get sick standing out here like that, it's freezing!"

"It's not that bad." He shrugs. He knows exactly where this conversation is heading, and it's a path he's not quite ready to unhitch the gate on. "I'm fine."

But just as Katie goes to respond, an ungodly sneeze rips through his body, calling his bluff and essentially confirming two things: that not only is he a filthy liar, but also, yeah, maybe he _is_ getting sick.

Katie snorts and presses herself into his side.

"C'mon." The umbrella is back, except this time it's above him rather than digging into his face. He looks at her, then up at the umbrella, then back down at her again. "You don't have an umbrella, right?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"We can share mine." It's her turn to shrug, as if what she's suggesting doesn't have him prickling with a fresh, this time nervous, sweat. He doesn't need another reason to keep him up at night.

"Katie…"

 _"Takashi,"_ she warns. For the third time that evening Shiro's stomach lurches. "I swear to god, if I miss out on the season premiere of _Planetary Escape_ because of you, Matt and Dad are gonna be down a pilot."

His lips quirk. "Nobody's forcing you to stay."

"No," she agrees, "but _somebody's_ gonna catch a cold. And I'm sorry, but I don't care how good of a pilot you are, there's no way I'm letting the Garrison shoot my family into space with a snot-nosed mouth breather at the controls." She bumps the pole of the umbrella against his shoulder for emphasis, but the playful glint in her eyes assure him that she's just kidding. Mostly.

"Your lack of faith in me is disheartening, to say the least."

"Yeah, well, suck it up."

"Ouch."

Katie laughs, and Shiro does, too, because _tactless, thy name is Katie Holt._ Shiro wouldn't have her any other way.

"But seriously, c'mon. I'm not leaving you out here." She nudges him. Then with a persuasively sweet smile that he's confident is more practiced than natural, asks, "Walk me to my dorm?"

The answer should be no. _Would_ be no, if he actually cares about adhering to the self-imposed boundaries he'd put into place earlier that year—which he does. Really. But with the wind chilling him through his sweat soaked t-shirt and the rec center closing in twenty minutes, he's running out of options that won't leave him laid up in bed for the next week. And those big, brown eyes of hers might as well be kryptonite.

Shiro takes a deep breath and follows.

. . . . .

The cadet dorms are farther away than the officers', but even without the walls of the rec center to help ward off the wind, walking side-by-side, Katie's warm enough for the both of them. She chatters enough for the both of them, too.

"—and then Hunk puked in the control panel. _Again."_ She sighs. Her story sounds eerily similar to one she'd already told him at least twice before, but Shiro nods along anyway. "So, yeah. Iverson wasn't too happy about that. We're probably gonna have to take remedial classes next month."

"Probably."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

Shiro chuckles. "Well, I'm not going to lie to you. Iverson's a pretty tough guy."

"He's an asshole is what he is."

"I'm going to pretend like I didn't just hear that." He tries to fix her with the best _disapproving senior officer_ look that he can muster on such short notice, even though all he wants to do is agree. Katie only snickers in response. "But about the remedial classes—don't stress yourself out about them, alright? I know Iverson's not the most… _likable_ trainer in the universe, but when it's all said and done, your crew will be stronger. You guys'll walk away better and more prepared."

Katie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, like you."

"Me?"

"I can't believe you didn't bring an umbrella," she elaborates teasingly as they approach a rowdy group of first years. They settle down to hushed whispers and stolen, awestruck glances as they pass. "Mr. Always Prepared. Aren't you a pilot? Don't you guys check the weather?"

"Sorry to disappoint. Although to be fair, I'm surprised that you even have an umbrella." He'd seen her dodging rain drops on more than one occasion.

"What? This isn't mine."

"Then whose—?" Shiro cranes his neck to look at the handle when Katie lifts it; the name **IVERSON** is written in thick black permanent marker along its length. "Really?"

"He's not gonna melt." She shrugs. Then bitterly, she adds, "Unfortunately."

"Yeah, you're definitely taking remedial classes."

Katie jabs him lightly, making the umbrella sway and temporarily abandon Shiro of its shelter. It'd already been doing a less than stellar job at keeping him dry to begin with—Katie was too short, causing the umbrella to constantly brush against his head, and the angle she held it at tended to leave the rain waterfalling down onto his mostly exposed shoulder—but now his entire right side is drenched.

He sniffles.

"Oh, no." Katie scrunches her nose. "You're not actually getting sick, are you?"

"You're the one who offered to share your umbrella."

"I might not've thought this through," she admits, leaning away to put as much distance between them as the umbrella will allow; a whopping two inches, which come at the expense of Shiro's already-soaked shoulder. "Is it too late to change my mind?"

Shiro takes the umbrella from her hand. "Here," he says, "get closer."

"What? Why?"

"We'll fit better this way." He switches his gym bag over to his other shoulder to make more room for the two of them under the umbrella. When he lifts his arm and beckons for her to huddle in, she stares at him. "What?"

"...Nothing."

"I promise I won't breathe on you, if that's what you're worried about." He offers her a small, lopsided grin. Katie is not convinced. "C'mon." He gestures again for her to come closer. After a drawn out moment of hesitation, she does.

"If I get sick because of you," she grumbles, but her threat goes unfinished.

Shiro smiles. Nestled into his side like this, his first instinct is to drape his arm around her shoulders, but he keeps his hand tucked safely in his back pocket. That doesn't mean he won't look, though; Katie's as pretty as she is stubborn, and even if he does have boundaries, he's not a wasteful person.

"Stop staring at me."

"Sorry." He clears his throat. "Guess I kind of spaced out there for a second."

Katie looks at him. Her expression is unreadable, but her cheeks are dusted a light shade of pink. Shiro would like to imagine that he might know the reason why, even though the truth is that he doesn't; it's probably just the cold.

"Are you nervous?" she asks, and suddenly his heart's in his throat. It must be obvious, because she quickly follows up with, "About the mission, I mean."

Oh. "A little, yeah." He's not, but he can't just say that. "But it's a great opportunity, you know? A big one. My first interstellar mission piloting entirely solo. Nothing I haven't done before, but with a full crew on board, and for so long…" He bounces a shoulder and tucks in a corner of his mouth. "Kind of hard not to be at least a little anxious, right?"

"You'll be fine." Katie's voice is steady and reassuring, a soothing balm entirely wasted on his falsified concerns. "You're like, the Garrison's best pilot—they wouldn't've chosen you for the mission if they didn't think you could handle it."

Shiro laughs. "I wouldn't say the _best_ pilot."

"And I wouldn't be trusting you with my family if I didn't think so, either," Katie rushes to get out, and once again, Shiro's undivided attention is entirely on her. Katie, on the other hand, suddenly decides that the muddy grass lining the edge of the sidewalk is far more interesting. "It just sucks that you're gonna be gone for so long..."

It's not so much a confession as it is a quiet afterthought, but it still has Shiro hard-pressed to not think about what else she might or could have meant. But that's easier said than done, especially when the tinge to her cheeks is darker and more expansive, creeping down to disappear into the neck of her hoodie. Or maybe he's just imagining it. It's kind of hard to tell when Katie won't look at him, but the way she practically refuses to isn't helping to starve his own self-indulgent speculations.

The cadet dorms are up ahead, right across from the main security post and about a stone's throw from the old science lab turned storage building. Shiro remembers spending a good chunk of his first two years in there, assisting Commander Holt with his research outside of classes with the initial hope of simply boosting his grades, but continued to stick around as the commander's glorified pack mule out of pure respect and admiration. Lugging dozens of pounds of soil samples and fragile lab equipment across campus hadn't exactly been Shiro's ideal way to spend his free time, but it was worth it.

"—thinking ... weekend … we could—"

Right. Katie's saying something.

"—does that sound?" she asks, or at least he thinks she does. He's not sure. Judging by the way she buries herself further into his side with a lip-bitten smirk, though, nodding along to whatever she'd said must've been the correct answer. Shiro lets his hand consider her hip for an entire second before shoving it back down into his pocket.

Even once they're inside and the umbrella is collapsed, Katie stays close. Shiro can't bring himself to move away. He wonders what they must look like. He thinks about the commander—tries to imagine how upset he'd be if he were to suddenly come across the two of them pressed so close together like this as they roamed the halls—but all he can imagine are holidays at the Holts; Thanksgiving, maybe Christmas. Colleen asking if he'd like another serving of mashed potatoes while Sam spitballs suggestions for his and Katie's upcoming anniversary. Matching ugly holiday sweaters, which Katie would conveniently forget to wear despite being the one to suggest them, leaving him to look ridiculous all on his own. Matt complaining about not wanting to see his best friend and his little sister suck face under the mistletoe for the thirteenth time that night.

"Do you wanna come in?"

Shiro flushes. "Sorry, I—what?" He hadn't realized they'd been standing in front of her dorm for the better part of a minute now. When Katie finally unsticks herself from his side to unlock her door, it's like a spell has been broken.

"I asked if you wanted to come in," she says, hanging awkwardly in her doorway. "We can hang out and watch TV? Um… have you seen _Planetary Escape_ before? Or we can just find something on Netflix, I wasn't really all that serious about needing to catch the season premiere tonight, haha. Or—hey—we could play some video games! Um, I don't really have a lot to choose from since Lance took all the good ones, and… _shit,_ actually, I think Matt—!"

"I should probably get going," he says, though he wants so badly to take her up on her offer. "It's getting late, and there's still a few things I need to take care of before tomorrow, but… maybe next time."

"Oh." Katie drops her shoulders. She chews the inside of her cheek. "Can't whatever it is wait? It's still pretty early."

"It's almost curfew."

"But it's Friday."

"I... really shouldn't."

"Oh, come _on,_ Taka—"

"Shiro," he says. "Just, call me Shiro."

Katie makes a face. "But I like Takashi," she argues. The problem is that he does, too—likes the way it sounds on her lips, anyway—a lot more than he probably should. The blatant distaste written across her features seems so wrong accompanying his given name, but he doesn't budge. Katie sighs.

"Alright, fine. Shiro." She drops her hand from the doorknob and crosses her arms. Shiro's view of her cluttered, disorganized dormroom shrinks as the door sways shut to stop against her backside. "Then I guess this is goodnight."

"Seems so."

"You sure you don't wanna hang out? At least 'til the rain stops?"

What he wants to do and what he should do are two completely different things. "Katie."

"Okay, okay. Then, here—take this at least." She hands him Iverson's umbrella.

Shiro accepts it cautiously. "Thanks. I think."

"Yeah, just don't let Iverson catch you with it," she says. Shiro momentarily considers just making a dash for the officers' dorms like he'd been ready to do before Katie found him. "Of course, if you'd just stay until the rain stopped…"

Shiro sighs.

"Kidding. Alright, then, goodnight I guess. See you tomorrow?"

"To return the umbrella?" he asks. "I can probably just sneak it into his office during one of his drills on Monday."

"No, for bowling!"

"Bowling?"

"We literally just made plans like, five minutes ago," she says it like it's something Shiro should know. Which, he should. But he doesn't. "Hunk said that one place across town just renovated and that they even have an arcade now, so I thought it'd be cool to go check it out."

"Is Matt coming?"

"No?"

Shiro nods. "Huh."

"You weren't paying attention, were you."

"I might've been a bit distracted," he admits with a sheepish half-smile, hoping to make light of the situation. Katie looks away. "Hey, listen, Katie, I'm sorry. It's not that I wasn't paying attention. I just..." he trails off, trying to find the right words to say; namely a safe excuse. "Between trying to get everything in order before the mission, and—"

"It's okay. I know you're busy," she assures him. Shiro knows her well enough to realize when she's trying to act like something's not a big deal, but that less than convincing forced smile of hers tells him that he'd managed to ruin her night, if not her entire weekend, with only a handful of words. He'd gotten her hopes up for nothing. "Besides, it was a lame idea, anyway."

"Lame or not, we'll definitely go bowling when I get back, alright? Promise."

"Sure. Goodnight."

Katie steps aside to let her door swing shut, leaving Shiro to feel rejected outside in the hall alone. Even holding Iverson's potentially-cursed umbrella, he still feels empty-handed; it's not often that they parted ways without Katie practically throwing herself at him for a hug, and though he knows he shouldn't have expected one in the first place, it just doesn't feel _r_ _ight_ leaving without one.

He stops the door before it clicks shut. "Tomorrow, right?"

Katie blinks. "What?"

"For bowling?"

"Shiro, I said it's not—"

"Just text me the time and the address. I'll be there."

He's not sure what he thought would happen—jumping the gun like that and committing to what could _technically_ be considered a date—but it earns him a genuine, albeit small grin, and a much happier "Goodnight, Shiro" that assures him that he'd done the right thing; it's not the hug he'd been hoping for, but it warms his chest all the same.

But that warmth has a pitifully short half-life, it seems, directly connected somehow to the growing distance he puts between himself and Katie's dorm room. Or maybe he's just imagining it. Regardless, every step further away feels like another step further from _maybe,_ the way she says his name; the terrible movies they could watch; the coziness of her dorm that smells faintly of dirty socks and burnt plastic; the little time he has left to make the most of these things.

Would it be so bad if he stayed for an hour, or two, or three? Would the world end if he happened to accidentally fall asleep on her floor up against her bed during a mind-numbingly mundane documentary? How hard would he kick himself for wasting such a perfect opportunity four months from now when he's stuck in space and Katie's back on earth going to arcades or bowling or whatever with someone who doesn't have to think before agreeing to spend time with her?

Shiro turns back around.

"Katie," he whispers, mindful not to alert her neighbors. He gently taps a knuckle against her door, forehead pressed into the thick wood. "Katie, open up, it's me."

There's silence, then some fumbling with the lock. Shiro impatiently jostles the handle in an attempt to let himself in before realizing that Katie's got her hand on it, too. When Katie finally throws the door open, she looks at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Shiro—?"

"I thought you liked Takashi?"

Katie's initial look of bewilderment slowly evolves into one of understanding and, soon after, excitement, and she launches herself into him. If that earlier smile of hers had managed to warm his chest, the joyous laughter that bubbles out of her warms him down to his bones.

"I knew you'd come crawling back," she says with that smug smirk of hers once she's untangled herself from Shiro and the strap of his gym bag. Shiro makes a show of turning to leave. "Kidding, wait!" She chuckles. Shiro obeys, taking notice of the crumbling, bitten-into Pop-Part that she's holding. He looks down to find himself wearing bits of it. "Does that mean you're staying?"

"Yeah," he says, "just for a little. I mean, if that's okay." He dusts the Pop-Tart crumbs from his shirt, then remembers that he's still in his gym clothes. "Sorry. I, uh, probably could smell better."

"You're kinda gross, but it's no big deal. Have you met my brother?"

"Funny, he says the same thing about you."

Katie snorts and drags him inside, using the strap of his gym bag for leverage. Her vengeance is swift and unyielding, but Shiro stumbles into her dorm willingly, even if a bit clumsily, narrowly missing tripping over a half-empty water bottle. Iverson's umbrella is forgotten outside in the hallway on the ground.


End file.
